


Nothing A Few Hours At The Gym Won't Fix

by littlechinesedoll



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal, Established Relationship, M/M, Riding, Smut, Watchtower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlechinesedoll/pseuds/littlechinesedoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody ever questions why Superman and Batman go missing for a day whenever Superman comes back from a weeks long mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing A Few Hours At The Gym Won't Fix

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Written at 230 in the morning.

The thought of someone walking in on them turns Bruce on. It didn’t matter if it was at work or one of Bruce’s guests at a party. He didn’t know why, but right now, he might just get off at the thought of one of the Watchtower personnel walking in on them. He hoped no one would catch them but _Jesus_ that pushed all of Bruce’s buttons.  

Of course they had chosen one of the most secluded places in the Watchtower, one of the gyms, near the Binary Fusion Weapon, but that didn’t mean nobody ever went down there. Someone went down there for sure, every once in a while to check the quiet hum of the engines that kept the Watchtower alive, and to check if the weapon was stable. But never the gym room. Bruce knew it was nice to hide that room from the blueprints. The janitors probably knew about it, but never asked.

It was one of those times when Clark and Hal or John go out on some intergalactic mission, when they’d be gone for weeks, and Bruce knew exactly what to do when Clark came back, and the senior League members knew to leave them alone for a while, and J’onn on the bridge would casually disable the cameras in the surrounding areas of their preferred location on the Watchtower.

While all of Bruce’s clothes, his armour, belt, cowl and boots were on the floor in a trail leading to them in some dimly lit corner of the gym on the mats, Clark was mostly clothed, with his red and Bruce’s black capes on the mat in a heap beside them by Clark’s pants and belt by his feet.

“Hnng—yes, Clark—unf—yes!”

Bruce was on the mat, Clark holding his legs up with his arms. Bruce had his arms on Clark’s shoulders, gripping tightly on his armour as Clark pounded into him. Clark pressed his lips on Bruce’s neck, leaving bites from his jaw down to his collarbone.

“I don’t ever want to be away that long ever again,” Clark breathed onto Bruce’s skin. Bruce let out something between a strangled moan and a sob that made him fist Clark’s clothes.

He could never be able to get enough of this. He could never get enough of the sounds that Bruce made, the way they held each other in their intimate moments, the tight, wet, hot feeling of Bruce’s walls clenching around him, the way Bruce surrendered to the pleasures of their hedonistic sex as if it were just him and Clark in the world, his kisses—he could never get enough of this man. Of Bruce.

“Let me—” Bruce leaned over to him to invite him into an open mouthed kiss, which Clark accepted gladly. “Let me ride you…” he panted when Clark pulled away.

Clark rolled them over quickly but carefully, without daring to let go or slide out of Bruce. As soon as they were comfortable on the mat, Clark took off his remaining clothing, and turned them into a makeshift pillow for his head.

“Look at you,” he said, letting his hands roam all over Bruce’s torso, then stopped on his hips. Clark couldn’t find the words the describe Bruce. In the dim light of the gym, Bruce’s pale, sweaty, scarred, bite ridden skin seemed to glow. And Clark just didn’t know if he could get any harder with the sight of Bruce sitting on his cock as if it were his throne.

Bruce put his hands on Clark’s abs, with the absolute intent of releasing untouched by nothing but the cool air. Here, he could be as vocal as he liked. He obviously couldn’t at home, because he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his entire family. Here, in a small, out of place, secluded gym anybody rarely went to, nobody would hear him. Only Clark.

Clark suddenly froze and tried to look as calm and natural as possible. “Someone’s here,” he whispered. “He’s one of the janitors on this floor, and he looks like he wants to clean up the gym,”

That brought a sadistic smile to Bruce’s used, kiss swollen lips. “Hm,” he said, “Let him _watch_ ,” and Bruce started to move his hips. At first it was quick and shallow, then it turned slower and deeper. “Sh-shit...yes!” he moaned, “Oh, God, that feels so good…”

And like Clark, Bruce would never be able to get enough of him. His touch, his inhuman heat inside, on and around him. He wanted and needed more, but he didn’t know how much more he could take, and if Clark would allow, he’d take as much as he could.

He didn’t know when his hands moved from Clark’s stomach to his forearms. But they were there, on Clark’s unmarred skin, just like the rest of him, as perfect as the sun he drew his strength from. Clark was meeting his movements now, thrusting upwards with every downslide Bruce made.

The janitor, who had enjoyed a minute or two of their fun, had tried his best to quietly run out of the gym back into his quarters. He was pretty flushed and his heart sounded like it ran a marathon. He also rose to the occasion and that made Clark smile a little in amusement.

“Bruce,” Clark breathed, “I’m gonna cum,”

“I want it,” Bruce whispered airily as he continued to buck against Clark, with every intent of milking him dry. “Give it to me,”

“Anything you want,” Clark grunted with one last thrust, he released into Bruce.

Bruce’s nails dug into Clark’s skin as he felt the hot rush of Clark’s come inside him. It was enough to send him over the edge, and he too came with his back arched, head thrown back in a silent scream. He spurted all over Clark’s stomach and chest as his body shook, letting the tremors of orgasm come wave after wave. His walls tightened around Clark’s still hard, but softening cock, and was a moment later slowly sliding out of him.

Both of them basked in the afterglow for a few moments, then Bruce leaned forward to give Clark a tiny kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry about the mess,” he said softly, moving to Clark’s side to rest his head on the Kryptonian’s chest.

“I got it covered,” said Clark as he reached for something in the small pocket of his cape: some paper towels. “Took some from the restroom when John and I arrived,”

“You remembered to bring paper towels and not condoms?” said Bruce, “Are you a Boy Scout or not?”

“I was horny, okay?” said Clark as he wiped away the mess. He and Bruce _did_ keep condoms in their respective quarters, but Clark didn’t even go to his quarters anymore.  “I hadn’t seen you in weeks and well,” he burned the tower with a little heat vision.  “I missed you,”

Bruce pulled Clark’s cape over them. “I missed you, too,”

They’d stay there for a while and pretend the League could handle the Earth for a few more hours on their own while their founders slept in each other’s arms in one of the gyms.  


End file.
